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Being a Constellation, in a way, is technically not dissimilar to that of a god, but Lakrak strangely doesn't feel any different from when he was an apostle before.
Of course, he still attends to his duties. During games, he is the strong force that leads the charge; as per his Domain, he brings judgement upon the old gods who suffocate worlds under their unfair rules. In the moment, he feels younger again: an apostle, carrying out the will and order of his god.
Now, however, Night Sky is no longer his god in name. His achievements—so great and widely known—have brought him to be on an equal standing to him.
The change has no effect at first. Over time, when Lakrak's time as an apostle had passed that of his mortal life, his relationship with Night Sky grew more relaxed. No longer was he a living being worshipping a figure deemed unreachable, because said figure now met and conversed with him on a daily basis, even if it was only about formal matters.
It was pure accidental when he had learned about Night Sky's true name, despite that—he had once overheard a conversation between him and Overflowing God, or Jang-Wan, who had addressed him as "Choi Sung-Woon"—but he had never mentioned it to Night Sky.
He digresses, though. Point is, Lakrak still treats Night Sky the same way as when he was an apostle and the latter a god. The fact that they both now hold equal power doesn't truly register in his mind. Until now, that is.
Another game has recently ended. Lakrak has helped slay the last old god dominating the world, and is now watching as the other Constellations start officially concluding the game. Night Sky is next to him, system windows open in front of him as he discusses something with the Sanctuary. Salkait would usually argue with him about dealing the final blow; they had made it into an unspoken game of who could take down the most old gods since Avartin. But he had been called away by Hegemonia, evidently needed to make sure all the enemies have been defeated, so Lakrak is left with Night Sky.
"Lakrak," Night Sky says.
Lakrak tears his gaze away from the planet's landscape below, focusing on him. He automatically responds. "Yes, Night Sky?"
Night Sky turns toward him, ready to tell him whatever it is that he wants to say—instead, he pauses for a brief moment before asking, "Why do you still call me that?" His tone isn't hostile nor interrogrative, only holding mild curiosity and even a tinge of hesitance, as if he is dividied on bringing the subject up.
Lakrak, meanwhile, blinks at the unexpected query. Once. Twice. "Huh?" he asks.
"You continue to call me by that title."
"Oh, should I not do that?"
"No, I don't mind." Night Sky shakes his head. "I'm just curious as to why you still refer to me that way. We're equals, you don't have to address me formally."
"It's the respectful thing to do, Night Sky."
"You call the others by their name, though."
"That's because I'm not their—" apostle, Lakrak almost says, but cuts himself off just in time.
He doesn't serve Night Sky anymore. He's the Constellation of Judgement. That fact, though cemented even since before the creation of the Hall of Myriad Stars, hits him as hard as Manun's tail smack; he's been on that end before, and it had knocked the breath out of him physically, just as this new thought had mentally.
Of course, there are still those in the Pantheon—most of them, actually—that still call him by the name Night Sky, but they aren't Constellations like Lakrak. The social disparity is still present, even when the idea of gods had been abolished long ago.
In retrospect, he should have better understood what exactly it meant to be a Constellation: not just shouldering heavier responsibilities, but going through the inevitable changes of social status and relationships. On the other hand, Lakrak is not good with change in general. Now he's experiencing the full force of that jarring contrast.
Night Sky seems to pick up on what Lakrak leaves unsaid. He doesn't touch on the topic, but rather lets out a small, quiet sigh and reiterates, "If it's something that you're comfortable with, there's no need to pester you about it. As I stated before, I really don't mind."
"I apologize."
"No, don't be. You've called me that even when you were my apostle, anyway. If it's comfortable for you, don't change it."
Those words prick his scales with embarrassment. Luckily, the subject is pushed aside soon enough and they move on to focus on the recently-completed game—but Night Sky's words don't leave his mind.
"Lakrak?"
The lizardman raises his head and locks eyes with Jang-Wan. "Oh. Huh?"
"The post-game meeting's over."
Lakrak turns his head. Sure enough, most of the Constellations had already left. Only a few are still in the conference room, but they are chatting about other topics not related to business. "Oh," he repeats. "Sorry."
"No, it's fine. You looked like you were spacing out. You're fine, right?"
"Yeah," Lakrak responds, a bit too quickly. He stands up from his seat awkwardly. "I was just thinking."
Jang-Wan stares at him, but doesn't press further. "Alright," was all she said, before turning to leave.
Lakrak suddenly thinks of something. "Wait a moment."
"Hm?" The other turns back to look at him.
"I have a question, if you don't mind."
"Go ahead."
Although he initiated the conversation first, Lakrak hesitates for a moment before saying, "Night Sky doesn't usually care for formalities, right?"
Maybe because it's Lakrak who's asking, but Jang-Wan doesn't hide her surprise at the question. "No, not really. We both know he usually asks people to drop the formalities when they meet. And you also know that he never speaks formally to anyone in the first place."
"No, that's not what I'm worried about," Lakrak denies. "It's just… is he uncomfortable with being addressed formally?"
"Hm." Jang-Wan crosses her arms. "No, I doubt it. Plenty address him formally all the time, especially because he's a big shot in the Hall. What happened for you to ask?"
Lakrak tells her a brief summary about what had happened.
After listening to his story, Jang-Wan shrugs. "He's a jerk, sure, but he doesn't say things without actually meaning them. If he says so, then it's fine."
"Really?"
"Especially because it's you, Lakrak. You're not the type to push boundaries and you keep things comfortable. You never even bring up Nebula's real name, although I know you were probably curious."
Lakrak freezes. "You… noticed?"
"What, did you think we wouldn't have known you were there?" Jang-Wan asks. Her tone holds a clear sense of amusement.
Lakrak feels himself blushing from embarrassment. "Well, it's not that. I just didn't bring it up because I thought you would feel uncomfortable."
"Your consideration's appreciated." Jang-Wan nods. She pats him on the shoulder. The height difference made her have to reach her hand up and tilt her head to properly meet him in the eyes. "Well, it's true that back then it would have been awkward, but I think we're more familiar with each other since then. And that name… I think all of us have ditched the human identity long ago. If we weren't ready for that, we wouldn't have been in Avartin in the first place." She pauses for a moment, thinking, then adds, "I still can't guarantee that he will react well if you call him that, though."
Jang-Wan isn't wrong. Night Sky isn't a social person, and even those who never met him directly would know. He had never kept aides when he was a god in the Pantheon, always preferring to do tasks himself. Even now, when the Constellations have grown closer due to the events in Avartin, it always feels like Night Sky would keep an invisible wall between them.
But still, that doesn't mean Night Sky isn't close with Lakrak—the opposite is true, actually. The only other person Lakrak could think of that can be considered closer to Night Sky than anyone else would be Hegemonia. No one dared to talk about it to their faces, but they could all tell that Night Sky and Hegemonia's dynamic had changed after that one Mafia game.
His thoughts are suddenly broken by the feeling of Jang-Wan's hand leaving his shoulder. "Anyway, don't overthink it. You two are close. If Nebula was really uncomfortable with that, he wouldn't have said anything." She pats his shoulder one more time, then left.
In the end, Lakrak circles back to Night Sky. He finds him in his office, going through some reports. Night Sky looks up when he enters, but doesn't turn him away. Lakrak ends up sitting on one of the couches in the room, bracing himself to open the subject.
"Is it really okay?"
Night Sky looks up from the paper he's reading. "What?"
"The…" Lakrak's voice trails off. He clears his throat. "The name."
Even though his words are vague, Lakrak is relieved to see Night Sky understand what he is talking about. "Oh, that." He looks down again and turns a page. "If someone is able to call me that, it should be you. We've been through a lot together. It's not right to make you keep the formalities."
Lakrak's eyes widen at the unexpected hint of comfort in his voice. Although it's faint enough that it can easily be brushed off, Lakrak knows Night Sky too well to miss it. He is right: they really had gone through lots of difficulties together.
"Alright then, Nebula."
The rustling of pages stop. "Huh?" Nebula asks suddenly, looking up again.
"Huh?" Lakrak repeats.
"That's what you're calling me?"
Lakrak wonders if something went wrong. Trying to backtrack, he scrambles for words. "No, I mean, I thought we were dropping the formalities—"
"That's not it," Nebula interrupts him before he can spiral. "I just had a different expectation of what you were going to call me."
Now Lakrak is extremely puzzled. "What did you think I was going to call you otherwise?"
"Choi Sung-Woon." Said person name-drops himself casually.
While Jang-Wan did say that both of them know that Lakrak knows Nebula's real name, Lakrak is slightly taken aback at the blunt way Nebula brings it up. But then again, Nebula tends to be a blunt person in general, so Lakrak really should have expected this. After a beat of silence, he ends up saying, "I thought you would feel awkward if I said that, Nebula, seeing how that is a more personal name. I didn't wish to overstep."
"I guess that's true," Nebula replies calmly. "Your consideration is appreciated, though."
Lakrak thinks that even when they're not as close as their blood ties, Nebula and Jang-Wan are still quite similar in some ways. "I'd still like to call you Nebula, if that's okay."
"Lakrak," Nebula says suddenly, putting down the paper he's holding. Because he doesn't wear his mask as often anymore, Lakrak could clearly see the serious gaze he's holding. "What do you think our relationship is?"
Lakrak pauses. "It's"—not god and apostle—"equals?" His voice comes out unconfident, a break from his usual personality.
"Yes, equals," Nebula affirms. "We are both Constellations, and hold the same power. You do not need to take my words as orders, nor do you need to go out of your way to follow everything I say."
"I don't blindly follow—"
"We both know that's a lie."
Lakrak shuts his mouth with a clack.
"I know you're not the type to change your ways," Nebula continues. "And that's fine. You've been my follower for decades and my apostle for centuries before becoming a Constellation, so that's natural." He traces circles on the papers before letting out a sigh. "But don't base your personality off of me because of it. It's tiring."
His words come out awkward and tilted. Nebula, after all, isn't the type to say this much in one sitting in the first place—but Lakrak doesn't find himself minding. His point still stands. Nebula may come off as rude sometimes, but Lakrak thinks that he's just trying his best.
It's… kind of endearing. Lakrak chuckles, his eyes forming into crescents.
"I think I'll be alright, Nebula. Adaptability is a skill, is it not?"